Lady Alana of Beruna: Of Telmarine Descent
by lovenarnia
Summary: "Have you really never wondered, your Majesty, what became of the Telmarines who followed the Kings and Queens of old through Aslan's Door?" Sequel to LunaStorm's "Of Telmarine Descent." Complete.
1. Mutual Observations

**Disclaimer: The idea for this story came from LunaStorm, who has been gracious enough to allow me to continue her story **_**Of Telmarine Descent**_**. ****I do hope you enjoy this and that it seems a continuation of her story.**

**I highly recommend that you read LunaStorm's _Of Telmarine Descent_ before reading this. It is an excellent story, and it will make this one make more sense.**

* * *

_"Have you really never wondered, your Majesty, what became of the Telmarines who followed the Kings and Queens of Old through Aslan's Door?"_

_Then she left, leaving in her wake a stunned Edmund, only coherent enough to gape._

~_Of Telmarine Descent _by LunaStorm

* * *

"So, who is she?" Aidan asked when Edmund, still rather dazed, returned to their table.

A brilliant idea came to Edmund, who grinned mischievously and answered carelessly, "Oh, she came here from another world by stepping through a door in the middle of a clearing filled with talking Animals and mythical creatures."

Aidan's face fell. "So you _didn't_ talk to her. Here you have the perfect opportunity to ask her who she is, and you don't even do that." He sniffed and buried his nose in his book again.

Edmund nodded rather glumly. "You're right. I don't know who she is."

* * *

It was to be another week before the two of them found their way to the library again. Aidan glanced around before sitting down. He elbowed Edmund. "There she is—over there."

"I saw," was the dry reply. "You have a remarkable knack for observing the obvious—did you know that?"

Aidan, honestly, could not think of a decent reply to this. If he said _yes, he knew that_, he was saying that he _knew_ he was remarkably stupid. If he should say _no, he didn't know that_, he was saying that even _he_ didn't know the depths of his own stupidity. It was times like this that he wondered how he had ever become friends with the intelligent, if sarcastic, Edmund Pevensie.

Said Pevensie was sitting across from his friend, immersed in his own brown study. _How was he supposed to talk to her? _If she had been a normal English schoolgirl, this would not be so difficult. He could stride over to her and gallantly offer to carry her books, obliterating any initial awkwardness with a fake sort of overdone kingliness.

This girl was not to be treated so cavalierly. She was definitely a Lady, perhaps the daughter of a Lord of Telmar. Surely she had no intention of catching the eye of one of the legendary Narnian kings. Said Narnian legend had, after all, disturbed her entire existence and dumped her unceremoniously into another world with no previous experience in this whatsoever. She had come from a world where catapults were the most advanced form of battle machinery, into a world where the atomic bomb was being developed. And she had managed to come with all her dignity and grace intact.

He would wait, he decided. This was not the time to approach her. She had been here, he judged, for about five years. She could wait for another week.

* * *

Lady Alana of Beruna sat back on her heels and watched as King Edmund the Just came in with his courtier, Lord Aidan. They were dressed exactly alike, but they could not have been more different. While His Majesty walked with the easy swing befitting a Narnian King, his courtier walked with a slouch and a swagger.

The two walked over to a table in the corner and sat down. King Edmund sat down as if he was sitting on his throne, but Lord Aidan slouched, sprawling all over his chair.

Perhaps Lord Aidan did not know that he was in the presence of a legend. Perhaps the King had never told him. Alana smiled. It would seem strange that the tall, thin lad had been a king. She herself had never believed in other worlds until she had met the Kings and Queens, so perhaps the people of Spare Oom did not believe in them either.

_How should she approach him?_ She would love to talk to him about the land she loved. The mere thought that she went to school with a King of old made her head spin. He had left Narnia also. He would understand the longing she felt for it. They had a common knowledge which no one else had.

But he was a king, after all—much too busy for her. She would wait—wait to talk to him. Perhaps in a week she would have decided what to say.


	2. Overtures

**Disclaimer: Again, this does not belong to me. Only the name of Lady Alana of Beruna, here known as Alana Linscoll, is mine. The actual characters, with the exception of Edmund Pevensie, belong to LunaStorm. Edmund belongs to C.S. Lewis. **

* * *

Aidan Winkler, self-appointed girl-watcher for his self-appointed best friend, Edmund Pevensie, was following her along the halls of Oxford in a desperate attempt to skulk in shadows and go unnoticed.

The girl he was watching was fully aware that he was watching her. She had not lived in a castle all her life, surrounded by plots and intrigue, for nothing. He did not seem to be a threat, but then, one can never be quite sure.

"Lord Aidan!" she cried, turning around. "How goes it with my lord?"

The boy was convinced that she was flattering him. He blushed and scratched his head before blurting out, "I'm fine, but I'm not a lord."

"Not a lord?" she asked in wonder. "But surely, surely he would not be accompanied by a mere boy!" she muttered to herself.

"Who?" Aidan asked, the truth of the matter finally dawning on him. She was _not_ interested in him, after all. She was interested in Edmund Pevensie! This _was_ an interesting development!

"His…" She trailed off. "Lord Edmund."

"He's not a lord, either," Aidan said, wishing to stop this "lord" nonsense once and for all. "He comes of a lower middle-class family. His dad was a soldier in France during the war. He works odd hours at a diner to put himself through school, like the rest of us. He's a decent chap about it—doesn't complain."

His speech did not have the bring-her-back-down-to-earth effect he had intended. Her eyes softened and she smiled gently. "To think that he is humble enough to stoop to that," she whispered, her face brightening. "My lord, I thank you." Then she was off, down the hall in a flutter of papers and books and skirts.

* * *

"Lord, my lord, how goes it—that's all she says!" Aidan complained to Edmund, who was at the mirror, wistfully stroking the stubble on his face. As he reached for his razor, it occurred to Aidan that Pevensie must have been doing this for a while, for he shaved quickly yet thoroughly with the efficiency born of years of practice. It was, however, off-the-topic and impossible, so Aidan dismissed the thought.

"Perhaps she comes from a wealthy family," Edmund suggested. "Lords, ladies, countesses, and all that. Governesses."

Aidan sniffed. "She hasn't the aristocratic accent. It's entirely foreign, yet English enough to pass."

Edmund smiled wryly at himself. "I could be wrong, but perhaps she didn't grow up in England."

"Where would that be—the West Indies? Sugar cane plantations? She hasn't even a tan!"

"I'm guessing she's been here for about five years, Lord Aidan. A tan would have disappeared by now."

Aidan rolled his eyes. "I do wish you wouldn't call me that, Sire."

"Call you what?" Edmund looked all too innocent.

"Lord Aidan. It's bad enough that she does it, but it just sounds so strange coming from you."

"All right, I won't." _Funny, I didn't even realize I did it._

"Why don't you ask her out and find out for yourself?"

"I suppose because you, my friend, would manage to get the table next to us and eavesdrop."

* * *

The big moment came a few days later. Aidan saw The Girl go into the library a few seconds before Edmund dashed up the steps and entered the huge building himself. Aidan, being the loyal friend and ardent eavesdropper that he was, sprinted across the street and into the library.

He rounded the corner of the farthest bookshelf from the door and immediately stopped to take in the scene before him.

Edmund knelt on one knee, holding her hand just inches away from his lips. The Girl stood before him, her plain face graced with a pleased and gentle smile. While she _was_ blushing, it was the dazed blush of meeting one of her greatest heroes, not the blush of having just had her hand kissed by a smitten lad in the corner of a crowded British library.

Before Aidan's eyes there passed the impression of a victorious, though battered, knight on the field of combat, kneeling before his lady. She wore a dress of a singular blue, her red hair plaited into a crown. And there and then, over the body of the man who had insulted her, they plighted their troth.

The impression was gone just as quickly as it had come, but Aidan was intelligent enough to know that something was afoot. (When one's friend is kneeling on one knee in front of a plain girl, who is blushing with delight, one would have to be an unmitigated idiot to suspect there was _not_ something afoot.)

* * *

"So, what's her name?"

"Alana Linscoll," Edmund replied shortly, frantically tying his tie. "If I can't get this thing to tie, I'll be late for our dinner."

"Linscoll, you say? I can't say I've ever heard the name before."

"Foreign, I suppose. She's been here in England for five years."

"How did you—" The door slammed behind Edmund. "—know?"

* * *

A/N: Linscoll comes from "Lion's call." It was the best surname I could come up with. If anyone has another idea, please let me know. Something like Talmer might be better, but I'd like your input.


	3. Common Ground

**Disclaimer: All characters, with the exception of Aidan and Alana, are the property of C.S. Lewis and anyone who claims them. Aidan Winkler and Alana are LunaStorm's, and Alana's name is mine. Enjoy!**

A/N: I took Bartholo's suggestion and made her father _not_ a follower of Aslan, to make it more reasonable that she would have left after the battle.

* * *

Aidan found a table where he could catch fragments of their conversation without being seen. It did not, however, enlighten him to any extent.

"My sister Lu and I went back about a year after we left," Edmund said, raising his goblet to his lips and drinking deeply before setting it back down. Aidan had thought at first that it was alcohol, but since Pevensie was such a responsible chap, he doubted it. (It was.)

She set down her fork and leaned forward. "You did?" Her eyes lit up. "Was everything well?"

He laughed. "Caspian said it couldn't be better. It had been three years over there, and Caspian said everything was under control. They had defeated the Calormen armies at the Great Desert, the giants of Ettinsmoor surrendered unconditionally, and all was well at home."

"What happened while you were there?"

"We didn't ever set foot in Narnia; we actually sailed to the end of the world, to Aslan's country."

She sighed. "Even among the Telmarines there were some followers of Aslan. I was one of them, but my father was not. That's why we left. I miss the land and the people, but most of all I miss Aslan. Only my new-found love for Jesus surpasses my love for Him."

"When we left, Aslan told us He would be watching us in this world, but here He had another name."

"Another name, Your Majesty?" Suddenly her eyes widened. "He is not … not _Jesus_, is He?"

"Yes, milady. I believe we both have found Him."

Tears coursed down her cheeks, but her eyes shone. "Oh, I should have known!"

This confused Aidan beyond belief. He knew Edmund to be a religious fellow, but all this about other worlds made him wonder just how strong the stuff in that goblet really was.

"My cousin went back to Narnia about six months after that—he had come with us on the _Dawn Treader_ (that's Caspian's ship, milady). But…apparently over forty years had passed."

Alana closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Forty years!" she breathed.

"Yes. Caspian had married a star's daughter and they had a son. But about twenty years after that, the Queen was killed by a venomous serpent and the prince disappeared. For ten years no one knew if he was dead or alive. Caspian, an old man now, heard that Aslan had been seen in the Isles and he set off after him to determine an heir to the throne. That's where my cousin comes in."

"Your cousin, sir?"

"Aye, Eustace." Aidan recognized the name of the boy who had come to visit Edmund once. He could talk the hind leg off a donkey, that one.

"Did he become king like yourself, Your Majesty?"

What _was_ in those goblets?

"Nay, but he came from his school with a friend of his, one Jill Pole. Aslan sent them from His country to the Northern Moors to find the lost prince. Along the way, they met Puddleglum, a Marshwiggle, who came with them."

She smiled. "They all died of the cold or were eaten by giants, as likely as not. All ended up knifing each other, I shouldn't wonder."

They both chuckled before Edmund went on. "They nearly did. It turned out that the serpent who killed the Queen was really a witch. She was the one who kept prince Rillian enchanted. They were hidden under Narnia, ready to break out, kill the king, and set up her rule. My cousin and Lady Pole saved him from his enchantment and prevented this from happening. The prince was able to see his father before Caspian…died."

The girl shuddered. "When I hear this, I cannot imagine what it must have felt like for you, coming back after thirteen hundred years."

Edmund scratched his head. "It wasn't as bad as coming back here after fifteen years of being king," he confessed. "I was used to being a man, and then I had to be a boy all over again." He sighed.

"I did not have to go through that," the girl said thoughtfully. "I came here just as I was; only my clothing changed. I was dressed like everyone else around me. Father had brought some gold with him, so we did not want for shelter or food."

"I thought you were going to the island your ancestors came from," Edmund objected.

"We all thought that. Apparently the magic worked differently for us—we came with you. I suppose if I grow into a woman here and then go back, I would be a girl again."

That was enough. If Pevensie and that girl wanted to get drunk and talk nonsense, that was all right. But Aidan Winkler, practical and intelligent, was not going to listen.

* * *

A/N: Should I continue, or should I stop? If you have any insight into what I should do next or what I should change so far, I will be happy to do what I can to make it better. Thank you!


	4. Keeping Secrets

**Disclaimer: I own none of this but Alana's name and the storyline. **

* * *

"You know, Pevensie," Aidan remarked when Edmund walked into the dorm room, "there _is_ such a thing as chivalry."

Edmund whipped round and stared at Aidan with a dangerous flash in his eyes. "Yes, I do know that," he said shortly, "probably better than you. What brought that on?"

"You practically talked her ear off!" he exclaimed. "Now, if you ask me, that's simply _not_ the way to get a girl to like you."

"I didn't ask you," was the brusque answer. "And I'm not trying to get her to like me."

Now he was sure it _had_ been alcohol in that goblet—something strong by the sound of it. But Edmund neither slurred nor swayed. He did not fall over, and he was doing a fine job of untying his own tie. Yet to watch a girl so very carefully for two weeks, kneel on one knee in front of her (Aidan still had not recovered from seeing that), take her out to dinner, and _then_ say he was not trying to get her to like him, why, that was just _absurd_.

But then, it was also Edmund Pevensie. And where Edmund Pevensie was concerned, the most commonplace things became momentous, and the most significant occurrences were relegated to the background until something he deemed important was duly noticed. He could make absurd things make the clearest sense, and muddle the obvious into something dim and vague. Perhaps it was because he himself was commonplace yet out-of-place, absurd and yet frighteningly reasonable, vague, yet possessing an uncanny clarity. He was Edmund Pevensie, and that should be explanation enough.

All this went through his head in a moment, and Aidan asked in a trembling voice, "Then what _are _you trying to do?"

For the first time since Edmund arrived, he smiled. "We're friends. Just friends. We've quite a few quirks in common; your extraordinary powers of observation have no doubt assisted you in perceiving that."

"Ed, you belong to the days of knights and damsels in distress," a disgusted Aidan said, heading for bed.

"I suppose you could say that," Edmund said thoughtfully. "Although, your diction was not quite plain. Was it the knights or the damsels who were in distress, or both?"

* * *

Marjorie Nichols looked up with marked interest when Alana Linscoll came in. She had been out on a date with Edmund Pevensie, and it should be said that she had the distinction of being the _only _girl who had gone out with him.

Therefore, it was no common occurrence, and she was meanly glad that she shared a room with Alana. What gossip could be had from this!

"What did you do?" she asked, innocently enough, inwardly grinning from ear to ear. Oh, Harriet Ford would simply _die_ of envy!

"Nothing much," came the soft answer. "We talked."

"What'd you talk about?"

"His old home. Where he used to live with his siblings."

"He talked to you about that on a date?"

"Yes." But by the way her eyes were shining, there had to be more to it than that. Alana was known to be a girl of few words.

"Nothing else?"

"Some people he knew there."

"People he knew there," Marjorie repeated numbly.

"Also, we talked about Jesus."

"I see." Perhaps Harriet Ford would not die of envy, after all.

"That was all."

Apparently, that _was_ all, shining eyes and blushing cheeks notwithstanding.

* * *

A/N: It's short, and I know it, but adding more to it wouldn't make sense at the moment.


	5. Saying Goodbye

******Disclaimer: CS Lewis owns the CoN, and LunaStorm owns this idea, Alana, and Aiden.**

* * *

_Knock, knock_. "Alana?"

"Yes, my Lord," Alana replied, rising from her chair and answering the door. She immediately dropped into a deep curtesy. "How may I serve you, my King?"

Edmund smiled kindly at her and motioned for her to rise. "May I come in?"

"Certainly." She stepped back, allowing him to enter her small rooms.

"You needn't call me King or Majesty or anything like that," Edmund told her as an afterthought, looking around briefly. "My friends all call me Edmund."

"Very well,...Edmund." Her face grew red. _He is royalty! _She told herself. _Surely it is the height of disrespect to call him only by his name._

"I came to ask you to come with me to a meeting of the Friends of Narnia tomorrow night," Edmund was saying. "The Lord Digory and Lady Polly will be there, with the High King and the Valiant. My cousin, Eustace, and a friend, Lady Pole, will be there as well. What say you?"

Her face softened into a pleased smile. "Oh, your majesty, I would love to attend! My father has planned a small party at our home for that very night, however. I will come if I can."

* * *

The next night found Edmund again in the company of his dearest friends. He apologized that Alana would not be there, much to Polly's dismay, for she found herself wishing to meet one who had journeyed to our world from Narnia. The talk turned to the Professor's feeling of unrest, Jill and Eustace's most recent trip to Narnia, and Susan's conspicuous absence.

Suddenly Edmund's hands had a strange tickling sensation in them. _By the pricking of my thumbs, some Narnian being this way comes. _He jerked around.

A young man, no more than thirty, stood behind him. Around his head appeared a thin metal circlet, marking him as King.

Peter rose to his feet, and the Professor's hand made a sudden movement, knocking a wine glass off the table. But there was not other movement.

"Speak," Peter breathed. "Speak, if you're not a phantom or a dream. You have a Narnian look about you and we are the seven friends of Narnia."

The apparition seemed to be in great distress, his mouth moving feebly. But before he could say a word, he began to fade and the seven Friends of Narnia found themselves in great confusion. Whence came the man? For what purpose? How?

* * *

"We'll be going up to London for the rings tomorrow morning," Edmund told Alana wearily, looking up at her from her couch as she prepared him a cup of tea.

He had staggered drunkenly to her rooms (eliciting many a "Pevensie! Are you quite all right?" from his astonished classmates) to tell her of the strange man they had seen. Her only response had been suddenly full eyes and a wistful wish to have been there and seen the man when he came. "It was frightening, Alana," Edmund had said. "I don't know that _I'm_ glad I saw him."

"I feel strangely as though I am about to watch a dear friend die," Alana remarked, bringing Edmund his tea and sitting next to him. "Do you feel that way?"

He considered the feeling, then nodded. "A bit, though it would be more accurate to say I feel as though a part of me will die, too." She shuddered a little, and he sighed. Suddenly he asked, "Come to see us off tomorrow, will you? I so want Pete to meet you."

"Of course."

* * *

She would never forget the hearty delight in Peter's voice when meeting her, nor the unmitigated pride in Edmund's when he introduced them at the station the next morning. Perhaps it was because they were deeply ingrained in her memory by the unexpected hug Edmund pulled her into just before boarding the train, seared into her soul by the feel of his youthful lips pressed briefly to the soft hair just above her forehead.

Or perhaps they were recalled later that day in a desperate attempt to have some last thing to remember of those two dear boys she would see again only when she joined them in Aslan's country.

* * *

**A/N Aww. How sweet. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I am rather sad it's done. I might edit someday, though. I'm still not exactly satisfied.**


	6. Keeping the Faith

**Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or anything pertaining thereunto.**

* * *

"_We have to let Susan come back to Aslan in her own time. She just…"_

"_She doesn't want to know she can't ever go back."_

"_I suppose."_

"_If you don't mind the question, what makes her different, your majesty? Your other siblings have grown closer together and to Aslan, while she pulls away."_

_A sigh. "I don't know, Alana. She just never loved Aslan as we did, I suppose. But I'm certain that she will come to Him, someday."_

"_I pray she will, your majesty."_

"_You needn't call me 'your majesty,' you know. 'Lucy' is fine."_

* * *

Standing in the doorway of the small church, Alana scanned the crowd for Susan. She remembered seeing her before they went through Aslan's Door, so she would know her on sight.

Suddenly, she saw her—bent over the memorial table, sobbing silently. Quietly, Alana wound through the groups of people until she reached the Queen.

"I'm sorry, your majesty," she said, knowing it would be enough.

Susan's head jerked upwards and she saw the young woman at her side. A small flicker of confusion filled her eyes, and Alana held out her hand.

"My name is Alana Linscoll," she said.

Susan's eyes softened. "Ah," she said. "You are the girl he told me so much about."

"I suppose, your majesty."

Susan coughed and turned away. "I'm not a queen here, Alana. I'm not worthy."

"_Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen,_ your majesty."

"_Bear it well, sons of Adam! Bear it well, daughters of Eve!_ You all forget that part."

"No, your majesty. But forgetting to bear it well does not make you any less a queen."

Susan extended a gloved hand at the pictures on the table. "_They_ did not forget, Alana, but they _died_ in his service!"

"_He_ died in _yours_, your majesty."

Susan bit her lip. "I'd rather not talk about this, if you don't mind."

"All right."

"_Do you remember the sunsets, Su? When the mermaids danced in the water?"_  
"_Don't be silly, Lucy. Mermaids are myths."_

"_Don't you remember, Su? He told us that we would find him here."_  
"_How can we find him here if he never really existed, Edmund?"_

"_You can't possibly have forgotten it all, Su!"_  
"_There was never anything to forget, Peter."_

"_Can you see anything, Susan?"_  
"_No, of course I can't, because there isn't anything to see. She's been dreaming. Do lie down and go to sleep, Lucy."_

Susan whirled around and caught Alana by the sleeve. "Please," she said, a little hurried. "Do you really think they were right?"

Alana regarded her a minute. "Yes," she said finally. "Let me tell you why."

* * *

The end.

The end.


End file.
